Summerflowers

Experiments with watercolours and the summertime.

Vriksh Ki Shakhaein

Tree Huggers United.
I love the way black pen looks on chai-patthee ka paani.
A sapling a year.

Curly-Whirley Flower Day

Curly-whirley flower day was over a year ago. I sat on ganda stairs with nothing to do, waiting for math class to begin. Yet, somehow, I was happy as never before. With my curly-whirley flowers.

Chaapa maaroing

Pre-linocut drafting. Missing school. Missing Chandan's coolio Bengali accent. Sigh.

Yet another black and white

Obsessing over black and white is a good thing, sometimes.
This is one of those, I hope.

Sunshine On My Shoulders

On a happy day involving many colour pencils and flitty thoughts, sunshine comes pouring in.

Empress Garden....

Sometimes, college can be such a bore. Sitting in class and sketching bottles and sharpeners and other mundane, random objects. Not today, anyhow. Today was quite different. We were taken to Empress Garden in Camp, Pune, to sketch shrubs and trees on A4 sheets. The specific nature of that sentence bug you? Check out our task sheets. Wait, Im straying from the point. Yes, so somewhere during our maha-sketching-endevour thing, we found ourselves perched on the slides and jungle-gym-things for the kiddies.May I add that when the signs say 'Ages 10 and below only', its for a reason. Ask the poor gluteus that found itself squashed on my journey down the slide. Anyhow, while I was precariously perched upon one of the many high things I climbed today, I was spectator to a conversation that made me wonder about the things I have been taking for granted. Must paint a little picture for you. Character 1- little girl in maroon uniform. Character 2- Her little baby brother, Rishikesh. Character 3- Child with thick Kajal lines and a mother with equally bright clothing as hers.
As I watched from above, 3 shared with 1 and 2 the grapes she munched. Then she asked 1, 'Thu akele aai hai?Theri mummy kahan hai?' She got a blunt,'Mummy tho nahin hai. Papa bhi nahin hai.' Much more grape munching followed. The squeals of the happy baby who was being cared for. Besides the obvious grief of these orphans, I was moved by the matter-of-fact nature in which only a child can speak. I was moved by the sharing that wasn't forced, but was so genuine. As they smiled, and laughed, and munched those grapes, I wondered why we all grow into the stereotypical people that we are.

Kala Ghoda Fair and Walks on Colaba Causeway

An unexpected trip to Bombay. Went to meet masi and check on Nani and her magic eye! All in all, frolicked my ass off. Went for the Kala Ghoda fair, which was quite a let down. I guess the expectations were high. Lesson learned, never compare the Kala Ghoda fair to Bangalore's Dastkar at Chitrakala Parishat. Nevertheless, masi and I went to Colaba Causeway in order to, (in masi's words) Mattha-tekofy! While Kolhapuri Chappals and Borums were bought, and Aquamarine was visited (much drooling while staring at the silver, may I add), I found my Green Book. Like 500 pages of handmade paper comprising of pressed flowers and all, and wrapped in the remains of an old, green banarasi sari, it was a steal for 250 rupees. A gift from masi, you, my green book, shall be cherished for days to come. To art and poetry and dreams.

Whoooootch!

Ever hear the deep whistly sounds hollow glass bottles make?